My Inpatient Stay (Part 1)


Since May is Mental Health Awareness Month, I thought this would be the perfect time to get back to blogging. To be honest, the last several months have been pure hell for me.

It started with feeling a little more “bummed” than usual and my energy levels were dropping. I kept blowing it off thinking, “I’ll feel better tomorrow”.  Before I knew it I was in full blown crisis.

I wasn’t able to eat, sleep, drive, or do much of anything. I was lucky if I showered and walking the dog was nearly impossible. This went on for over a week before my mom stopped over and insisted that I stay with her for a while. My psychiatrist was adjusting my meds so we both assumed that everything would improve at any time.

For an entire month, my routine was:

-Wake up automatically at 7am dry heaving
-Walk dog
-Pace back and forth for several hours constantly wringing my hands
-Try to eat breakfast but only eating one or two bites
-Curl up on couch to watch tv
-Try to eat lunch but only eating  one or two bites
-Feed dog
-Go back to the couch to watch tv
-Walk dog
-Actually eat some dinner
-Go back to the couch to watch tv
-Let dog out
-Go to bed only to not be able to fall asleep. When I woke up during the night, I wasn’t able to fall back asleep for several hours

This was my routine for AN ENTIRE MONTH.

I had never experienced such anxiety for such a long period of time. It was like a panic attack that wouldn’t end. Each evening I felt a little better, so that got my hopes up. Unfortunately those hopes were dashed by the time morning rolled around.

Most of this anxiety had to do with the wrong medications, but a huge trigger was the fact that my dad is in hospice. He has severe Parkinson’s and has been slowly going downhill. I got a call saying that he was having trouble breathing and they thought the end was near. That just added to my downward spiral. Every time the phone rang my heart raced even more. I turned my phone off every night because I feared being woken up with a call from his nursing home. (He has since improved slightly for which I am extremely grateful.)

I finally made an appointment with both my therapist and psychiatrist. When they saw me, they both agreed that I needed some inpatient help. I wish I hadn’t waited so long, but I honestly thought, “Tomorrow will be better.”

My mother drove me directly to the emergency room and my psychiatrist called them so they were aware of my situation.

My experience will continue with my next post.